


Underdogs with Good Intentions

by jinlinli



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Matchmaking, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Matchmaker Steve Rogers, Not Actually Unrequited Love, One-Sided James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov - Freeform, Pining, everyone is bad at feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 12:46:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18223346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinlinli/pseuds/jinlinli
Summary: “You could try dating other people,” Steve says hesitantly.The blistering hypocrisy of him saying this toBuckyof all people is not lost on him. His track record of trying to turn off his feelings for the man in question has been pitiful at best, schadenfreudically disastrous at worst.Bucky scrubs a hand over his face. “Fuck, I guess? I don’t even know where to begin.”“Maybe I could help?” Steve’s mouth says, and then he kinda wants to stab himself in the face. Because silently pining for your best friend for two years is bad enough, but being said friend’srebound?That’s pathetic, even for him. “I mean, I could help you find a date?”Honestly it’s like something out of a Shakespeare comedy. Both of them helplessly, hopelessly in love with all the wrong people.





	Underdogs with Good Intentions

**Author's Note:**

> This fic took a little longer than I expected it to, but it's done now!

It’s been getting on to be two years since the night Steve fell in love with Bucky and maybe half a year since he’d fully resigned himself to that fact. Really, he should be used to it by now. Nothing Bucky can do could ever throw him off anymore. At least Steve’s able to delude himself into believing this until Bucky sidles up to him with a nervous look in his eyes and says, “Hey, can I ask you something?”

Steve stares at Bucky, and he doesn’t dare let himself hope. There’s absolutely no way Bucky suddenly had a change of heart and decided that it really was Steve’s arms he wanted to be leaping into all along. Not in a million years. Pathetic sonuvabitch that he is for being in love with his best friend for so long, Steve still knows better than to think his feelings would ever actually be reciprocated.

It’s been two years already, and the swelling emotion pulsing in his gut is just as strong as it’d been since the first time Steve looked over at Bucky and felt like the rug had been yanked out from under his feet.

Bucky gnaws nervously on his bottom lip, and Steve feels something swoop in his stomach. This would be the perfect time for Bucky to confess, a small traitorous part of Steve’s brain whispers. They’re in one of those 24-hour greasy spoons that by all rights should’ve been shoved next to a seedy motel along a lonely stretch of interstate. Instead, this one’s within spitting distance of both a Starbucks and a Whole Foods. Really, the only reason why it’s still around after gentrification planted its flag in this part of the city is because its coffee is so damn good.

Steve and Bucky had been coming here since their college years, and he always secretly thought of it as ‘their diner’. It might not be the most traditionally romantic locale, but there’s something _right_ about the thought of Bucky confessing his feelings in the one place in the world that belongs to them and them alone.

And Bucky’s sitting right next to him, elbows all shoved up against Steve’s side. They’ve always sat on the same side of the same booth. The booth that’s tucked next to the back window where the neon glow of the diner sign casts everything in a strange red-orange glow. Bucky’s hair is tugged back into a loose ponytail because it’d recently started to get shaggy and long. Stubble darkens his cheeks, just on the verge of becoming a full beard, and his clothes are rumpled from sleeping on the office couch last night.

He looks tired but exhilarated, as he always does just after coming from work. Bucky’s trying to get one of those save-the-world start-ups off the ground with nothing but stubborn audacity and a fistful of venture capital. It’s rewarding work, but it also means Bucky’s been pulling killer hours for months. Steve suspects that the only times he ever stops long enough to eat is during these mandatory 1 AM meals Steve forces onto him. And honestly, Bucky only shows up because the janitor kicks him out at around midnight after getting tired of Bucky staying so long after hours.

This really would be the perfect time. Bucky, fresh from some victory at work, pulling Steve into his arms and telling him he loved him. Not that Steve thinks about it much—or every time he sees Bucky’s eyes light up as he describes the progress made that day.

“You don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to,” Bucky tacks on hastily, color flushing his features. A chunk of Steve’s resolve cracks and thaws at the sight of it, and that terrible traitorous hope starts to wiggle its way through the new hole in his defenses.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve says, thankful that his voice doesn’t crack. “What do you wanna know?”

Bucky fidgets silently for a while, fiddling with his fork. Steve watches him demolish the remains of his apple pie with the tines as he works up the courage to say…whatever it is he wants to say. Steve carefully tries not to think too hard about what question could possibly make Bucky this apprehensive.

“You’ll be honest with me, right?” Bucky asks, using his fork to draw patterns into the whipped cream. “You won’t lie just to spare my feelings?”

“I won’t.”

“Because I really need you to tell me the truth. I don’t care how hard it is to hear.” Bucky takes a breath. “I need to hear it.”

“Bucky,” Steve says.

“And it would be worse if you tried not to hurt me. I would rather you didn’t say anything at all if you don’t want me to know.”

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve says. His heart pounds in his throat. A corner of his mind is screaming that this is finally the moment. He does his best to shove that part of him down. “You’re stalling.”

Bucky blinks at him, something wild and panicked in his eyes before he sucks in a deep breath to calm himself down. “Right, okay, sorry, yeah.” He gulps in another breath. “Is—is Nat happy?”

And Steve—he isn’t disappointed. This is completely expected, he tells himself firmly as he ignores the bitter taste on the back of his tongue. He absolutely had not just talked himself into believing that maybe Bucky was thinking of confessing his secret love for Steve. Nope, not at all. Bucky’s been in love with Nat for just as long as Steve’s been in love with Bucky. She’s also been dating Clint longer than she’s known any of them existed. This is just…more of the same. The status quo carries on, and Steve isn’t disappointed. 

Steve fixes a sympathetic smile on his face and says, “You know she is.”

Bucky nods, the movement jerky. “Right, right, I know. I just—” he stabs his fork into his mangled pie, “Clint’s gonna propose to her soon, isn’t he.”

It isn’t a question. And honestly, Steve has no idea how the hell Bucky would even know. Clint bought the ring three weeks ago. He’d only told Steve last week, but there was no way in hell he’d tell Bucky. Their entire relationship now can mostly be described as neutral to the point of apathy. They’re certainly not to the point that Clint would ever confide news like this to Bucky.

“He is,” Steve says hesitantly. “How did you—?”

“I can see what’s right in front of my face.” The pie’s long been reduced to a puddle of pulverized apple, but Bucky keeps jabbing at it. “He loves her. And—and she loves him.”

Steve reaches out and gently snags Bucky’s wrist before tugging the fork from his hand. He doesn’t know what to say.

“I can’t even begrudge him for it. Because, I know he makes her happy. And he’ll be good to her. He’s always been good to her. And I _do_ want her to be happy. I wouldn’t ever want to take that away from her. It’s just—I just—” Bucky trails off, hissing with frustration.

“It’s just that you wish the person who was making her happy was you,” Steve says quietly. He knows the feeling all too well.

Bucky blows out a breath, his shoulders hunching a little. “Yeah,” he sighs.

They sit in silence for a long time, the empty diner quiet save for the electric hum of fluorescent lights.

Eventually, Bucky looks up at Steve and says, “I don’t know what to do.” And he looks so lost and hurt that Steve almost starts to wish that Nat had never met Clint, had never fallen in love with him, just so Steve would never have to see that look on Bucky’s face again.

“You could try dating other people,” Steve says hesitantly. “Try to move on.”

The blistering hypocrisy of him saying this to _Bucky_ of all people is not lost on Steve. Because his track record of trying to turn off his feelings for the man in question has been pitiful at best and schadenfreudically disastrous at worst. He’d tried to force himself to love other people, perfectly nice decent people, people who weren’t Bucky. And well, let’s just say that Steve’s long resigned himself to a life of being very very single.

Bucky scrubs a hand over his face. “Fuck, I guess? I don’t even know where to begin. It’s not like I have the time to actually meet people.”

“I could help?” Steve’s mouth says, and then he kinda wants to stab himself in the face. Because silently pining after your best friend for two years is bad enough, but being said friend’s _rebound?_ That’s pathetic even for him. “I mean, I could help you find a date?”

“Would you? That would—you have no idea how much that helps.”

“Yeah, of course. I know a few people who you’d enjoy hanging out with.”

“Thanks, Steve. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Then Bucky smiles that soft sincere smile, the one he only reserves for the moments when he’s truly grateful to someone. Steve’s heart flops strangely in his chest, and yup, he’s definitely screwed.

 

* * *

The first date Steve sets Bucky up on is with a girl from one of the number-crunching departments in his firm. Statistics or something. Being a more front-end guy, Steve never really understood the analytics side of the company, but Kristen’s nice and smart in a way that he’s sure Bucky will probably like. Setting aside the fact that the only reason why he even knows Kristen is because Nat introduced them back when Steve was still laboring under the illusion that his whole thing with Bucky was something he could _actually get over_.

Still, as far as first date prospects go, Kristen’s a pretty damn safe bet. She doesn’t have any weird hangups or baggage. She navigates both awkward small-talk and deeper more incisive discussion with a skill that’s had Corporate Relations trying to lure her into their department for months now. There’s a reason why Nat tried to set her up with Steve, and why Steve’s now setting her up with Bucky.

But even before Bucky comes back into their diner with a chagrined air about him, Steve knew that it wouldn’t work out. Kristen is smart enough to keep up, but not smart enough to keep Bucky constantly guessing. Or maybe she is, but she’s too nice to use it on other people. Not like Nat does. Everything’s a bit like waging war with her.

And even though the date was something of a disappointment, it’s clear that Bucky’s in higher spirits than he has been in a while. He waves his hands around as he describes the things they talked about, the dress she wore, the aquarium they went to. Bucky’s leaning all up in Steve’s space, and his voice would be loud enough to be rude if it weren’t for the fact that the majority of the other customers in the diner are drunk college students. Bucky hadn’t even changed out of his clothes after the date, just headed straight back to work to grind on an ongoing project and then came here after the janitor kicked him out of the building.

The office AC is broken, and it’s not quite far enough into autumn for them to throw off the late summer heat. It’s clear that Bucky’s been sweating in his clothes all day. He’d slung his jacket over his lap, rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, and popped a few buttons in an attempt to keep cool. The nice white button-down Bucky wore for his date has food stains and wrinkles, and it’d gone a little translucent on his chest from sweat. He has no right to look as good as he does in this moment.

Bucky’s still talking about his date, in the middle of admitting that he’d been more interested in the aquarium fish than his own date. Steve snorts into his soda.

“She was alright though,” Bucky says. “Nice, I guess.”

Steve looks at him, trying to parse his tone. “Nice.”

“Yeah, I could see myself going on another with her if she wanted to. Though uhh, I don’t think she’d want a second date after this one.”

Kristen was nice. Of course, she was nice, but she wasn’t much more than that. And Bucky didn’t want or need _nice_. He never did. Otherwise, why the hell would he fall for someone like _Nat?_

Bucky needs someone with more edge, someone rougher to grind against. The relationship needs friction if he’s ever going to keep interest. So Steve sucks it up and calls Tony, who’s spent the years after undergrad knee-deep in rivals and archenemies, taking Silicon Valley by storm. If Bucky needs a date who can keep him on his toes, Steve’s sure as hell gonna give that to him.

And well, he maybe did his job too well, because Bucky stomps up to their shared booth, and snarls, “That fucking _asshole_ ,” and then refuses to say anything further on the matter. Steve is only able to glean the details of what happened through Rhodey who’d found Tony later that evening nursing the black eye Bucky gave him. Based on what Tony ranted to Rhodey, apparently Bucky took issue with the fact that Tony’s only where he’s at right now thanks to his dad’s money and connections in the industry.

And yeah, Steve thinks, watching Bucky storm his way through the next few days, he can see exactly how that would end with both of them coming to blows. Tony’s undoubtedly brilliant. He sure as hell wouldn’t have gotten this far if he wasn’t damn good at what he did. But he’s arrogant and maybe a little bit too blind to just how much of an advantage he has compared to the debt-ridden college grads cutting their teeth in the same field.

Bucky doesn’t take well to the pull-yourself-up-by-the-bootstraps mythologizing, so of course, he’d bring it up on the fucking first date. Him pointing out an ugly reality like that while neatly tripping right into Tony’s boatload of daddy issues—yeah, that couldn’t have possibly ended well.

Honestly, after a disastrous date like that, Steve’s genuinely shocked when a week later, Bucky snags one of his fries and says, “Got anyone else lined up for me?”

Steve gapes at him for a while, but Bucky just chews on his prize and flashes a shit-eating grin at him before stealing another. It’s not quite as broad a smile as Steve normally sees on Bucky. For a moment, he wonders why he’d even ask if he’s still hung up on the Tony debacle, and then Steve remembers that Clint finally worked up the nerve to officially propose yesterday. Nat even had the grace to pretend to act surprised, even thought she knew it was coming before even _Clint_ did. The news must’ve reached Bucky by now.

Steve’s throat tightens at that. He manages to mumble something out about Lilian from Accounting who might be interested. And okay, that one he definitely knows wouldn’t work out because Lilian may have a lip piercing, but that’s in no way reflective of her actual personality. In all honesty, it’s the most interesting thing about her. But he panicked, it’s a totally reasonable response to blurt out the first name that comes to mind.

But yeah, that date definitely didn’t go well. Apparently she didn’t bother to mention to Steve, Bucky, _or_ the waiter that she was deathly allergic to carrots. Bucky called him from the emergency room, sounding utterly bewildered. Because apparently Lilian hadn’t wanted to _bother_ anyone by mentioning that she had a somewhat obscure but fatal allergy before ordering her banh mi sandwich.

Then there’s Dot. Bucky got so invested in winning one of those big stuffed animal prizes, he spent half an hour standing at the ring toss game. The entire time Dot stood next to him growing increasingly bored and pissed off, and when it became clear that Bucky was trying to win the stuffed animal as a point of personal pride more than anything else, she just walked away. Bucky didn’t even notice until the guy working at the booth pointed it out.

“Honestly, I didn’t think you’d be this bad at this,” Steve says after that one. “Like, this is so genuinely terrible, I’m almost embarrassed for you.”

Bucky snorts. “When have I ever done anything to make you believe that I’d be remotely smooth on a date?”

Which is a completely fair point. Steve loves the guy, but even he has to admit that Bucky’s a bit of a disaster human being. He’s a workaholic who sleeps on his office couch more often than not, and he basically lives on 1 AM burgers. Steve doesn’t know whether he even makes it home to his apartment most days, or how often he showers. And at this point, it’s better not to ask. Sure, Bucky’s cleaned up since he started dating again, but the old habits are still hard to kick.

He’s the kind of guy who just shuts everything else out when he really gets focused on something. His work, Natasha, a stupid carnival game. It’s an intensity that Steve’s always admired because when Bucky has a goal to strive for, he commits like no one else. He can achieve an astonishing amount in a very short amount of time. But yeah, it still comes at the cost of everything else. Steve’s honestly grateful that he still has a place in Bucky’s life in between everything else, that Bucky cares enough about him to make the time.

But what this also means is that not one of these dates has come even close to catching Bucky’s interest enough to kick off that fervor in him. And Steve can’t help but wonder if it’d been him, if he would be enough to spark that passion. And the answer to that question is something he doesn’t ever really want answered.

 

* * *

 

“You really don’t have to put in all the effort, y’know. I could’ve just made a Tinder or something,” Bucky says one day. “No one meets anyone in person nowadays.”

Steve glances up from his Coke, realizing belatedly that he’d somehow gotten hypnotized by the bubbles of carbonation crawling up the inside of the glass—and he hadn’t heard a single thing Bucky said to him over the past five minutes. It’s been a long day. “Sure, it’s faster,” he says once Bucky’s words register, “but I dunno, it’s not always better. You have to go through a lot of crap before you find someone you feel any sort of connection with.”

Bucky snorts. “Same with real life.”

“I can trust my instincts better with real life.”

“You meet less potentially datable people in real life, and they don’t always have the same interests as you. It’s just more practical to swipe right.”

“Then it all just gets reduced to whether or not they’re attractive.” Steve frowns. “Tinder has almost nothing to do with their personality.”

Bucky looks back at him for a while, a contemplative expression on his face. And then something seems to click, and his mouth slowly widens into a smile. “Wait a minute, you just don’t like Tinder because it’s too 21st Century. You’re secretly a hundred-year-old man.”

He scowls at Bucky who’s full on grinning now. “Not liking Tinder doesn’t mean I’m old-fashioned. It’s just personal preference.”

“Sure, it’s personal preference. But the reason for your personal preference is you don’t like the new-fangled technologies messing with your Nicholas Sparks fantasy.”

“It’s not like that,” Steve grumbles.

“Really?” Bucky’s smile gets just a little bit wider. “So why haven’t _you_ made one?”

“There was just never the time.”

“C’mon, admit it.” Bucky leans in, his face only a few inches away from Steve who absolutely doesn’t shiver a little from the proximity. Bucky’s bangs flop over his eyes, and he lowers his voice to paint the picture. “You secretly want to bump into Mr. Right somewhere sickeningly adorable like a bookstore or a coffeeshop. You want to compliment him on his horn-rimmed glasses, and he’ll recommend a book by an obscure Russian author to you. You wanna gaze into his eyes and find the secrets of the universe there or something.”

More like, slowly becoming best friends with someone over the course of years, and then all of a sudden realizing he was Mr. Right the whole damn time. Not that Steve’s ever going to admit to that.

He rolls his eyes. “At the very least, I’d meet them at a museum. Somewhere classy.”

“Wow, elitist much? What’s wrong with running into someone and chatting over a cup of coffee?”

“ _So_ pedestrian.”

Bucky snorts. “Well, you’re not gonna find anyone who’s willing to argue the merits of Kantian ethics with you.”

“Hey, didn’t you hear? Moral philosophy is the new sexy now.”

“It is _not_. I will fight you on that,” Bucky says, huffing with mock outrage.

“That’s just because you’re bitter, and you like the crap Mill spouts more.”

“You’re an ass.” Bucky shakes his head sagely. “No wonder I’ve never seen you date. Maybe I should be the one playing matchmaker.”

“I date.”

“Yeah, a long time ago. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you go out with _anyone_. And that’s perfectly fine if it’s not something you’re interested in—”

“I am interested,” Steve says, and God, his track record really must be bad if Bucky thinks he just doesn’t want relationships altogether. “And besides, you’ve had a dry spell way longer than that.”

“I’m trying now, aren’t I? And unlike me, you don’t have the excuse of hopelessly pining after one of your best friends for the past how many years.”

Steve winces. Jesus, that was a little too on the nose. “And you make fun of me being too Hallmark. You’re worse than me.”

“The first step is admitting you have a problem. Hi, I’m Bucky, and I’m a hopeless romantic.”

“Hi, I’m Steve, and you’re ridiculous.” He rolls his eyes.

“But seriously, you should give it a shot. I mean, even _I’m_ trying, and that’s saying something.”

Steve glares at him, but there’s no heat in it. “I’m still not trawling for dates on Tinder.”

“Hey, don’t knock it. It’s a perfectly legitimate way to meet people. That’s what I would’ve been doing if you hadn’t been helping me out with this.”

“If anything’s gonna happen, I just want to let it come naturally. Is that really so wrong?”

Some of the amusement drops out of Bucky’s expression, leaving him looking…pensive almost. Or maybe even a little bit sad. He bumps his shoulder against Steve’s and gazes at him until Steve meets his eyes.

“It’s not wrong, really,” Bucky says. “It’s just, I wonder if you’re really putting yourself out there. I mean, I know there’s any number of people you’ve already met that you could date. Hell, you’ve set me up with most of them. But you’ve never once tried to start anything. You’ve never really given any of them a chance. And I know it’s fine if relationships just aren’t really your speed, but you just said that wasn’t it. So yeah, this does make me worry about you because I do care about you, and I want you to be happy.”

And Steve has no idea what to say to that.

 

* * *

 

The dates keep going.

Steve’s trying harder, he really is. But regardless of how much he genuinely wants Bucky to be happy, it’s hard to really put his heart into finding someone he knows Bucky may one day fall in love with. Not that Bucky has even really noticed or minded that Steve hasn’t been doing a particularly good job on his end.

But still, after so many failed dates, Steve can’t help but take it to heart a little. Even if some small part of him relaxes every time Bucky comes back with nothing to show for it, another part of Steve starts to feel worse and worse. Because every time, it becomes increasingly obvious that maybe Bucky will never get over Natasha. Maybe there’s no one else in the world he could possibly love. And that’s starting to scare Steve.

“Maybe I’m just not picking the right people,” he says.

Bucky sends him a pained smile. “I think even if the right person came along, I’d still manage to fuck it up.” And Steve just knows he’s thinking of Natasha.

“There isn’t just one right person for anyone. It’s not like you get one chance at this, and if it doesn’t work out, you’re stuck. There’s gonna be _someone_.”

It’s what Steve’s told himself over and over for years, even if the message never stuck when it came to himself. Just because his feelings are too stubborn to accept this doesn’t mean this isn’t true.

“Plenty of fish in the sea, huh?” Bucky gnaws pensively at his straw. Then leans back in the booth to stare up at the ceiling, the straw sticking out of his mouth like some sort of absurd cigarette. “I dunno, I just don’t really care if I find someone or not.” The straw bobs a little as Bucky mumbles his words around it. “It’s hard to take any of this seriously. It’s all fun _because_ I don’t give a shit what happens with these dates.” Bucky groans. “It feels so hypocritical to tell you to put yourself out there and then turn around and pull this, but I really have been trying. I’m just not very good at it. I can’t seem to get my head together enough to give anyone a fair shot.”

Steve studies Bucky for a while. Neither of them had taken this whole matchmaking thing particularly seriously. It’s a game that they’ve both been playing to lose since the beginning. Steve finds people who he thinks could work, but deep down knows aren’t right for Bucky. Bucky goes on those dates with no intention of trying for anything more. And every time, Steve’s secretly a little relieved that it’s him that Bucky’s always returning to.

“Has it helped at all?” he asks quietly. “Getting out there. Trying to make it work with other people.”

Bucky blows out a breath. “Honestly? I have no clue. “But it is helping me take my mind off things.”

Ahh. “You’re doing this because if you don’t, you’ll have no choice but to keep thinking about the fact that Nat’s getting married. It’s a distraction.”

Bucky winces. “That just sounds like I’m using them. It’s not like that—I really am trying my best. It’s just…I can’t look at these people and think of them as someone I could find myself loving.”

“It’s because you don’t know them,” Steve says. “You can’t expect to go in already in love with them, but given enough time—”

“But can I even give them a fair chance? All I keep doing is just comparing them to her. They’re all too much of this or too little of that. They’re all wrong because they’re not Nat. How the hell can you fall in love with someone when that’s all you can think about?”

And Steve has no idea what to say to that. Because he doesn’t have any of the answers. Expecting Bucky to somehow fall out of love with Nat would be about as successful as expecting himself to fall out of love with Bucky. It’s not just something they can turn off and move on.

And even though Steve knew this the whole time, a part of him still sinks at the thought of this. Bucky’s still just as in love with Nat as he was at the start of all this. At first, Steve had just been happy that Bucky wasn’t going to be living happily ever after with someone else, but now, it’s just a reminder how impossible this has been since the beginning. Bucky’s not in any danger of falling in love with someone else, including Steve.

“I don’t know, Buck. It’s not like I’ve been particularly good about this either.”

“We make quite a pair. It’s like the blind leading the blind.”

It’s almost hilarious how messy and complicated this turned out. Both Steve and Bucky trying to convince each other to open up and let other people in all the while being completely unable to take their own advice. They know better. It’s just they can’t seem to figure out how to be better.

 

* * *

 

Oh God, Steve thinks as his heart sinks to his stomach. _He’s_ _perfect_.

Sam Wilson is the kind of person that’s all too easy to fall in love with. It’s not necessarily the gap-toothed smile, the particular brand of attractiveness that’s more welcoming than intimidating, the broadness of his hands—though, all of those things certainly help. It’s that something else quality that every other person Steve’s ever set Bucky up with never quite had. The same thing that drew Bucky so strongly to Nat in the first place.

There’s a deep-rooted charisma to him. An ease with which he carries himself. He has a natural confidence that’s impossible to fake, something that exists in Nat and Bucky, something that Steve’s always envied in the both of them. And here stands Sam Wilson oozing this indescribable quality in spades, and Steve knows deep down to his bones that he’s the right person for Bucky. He’s the person who could earn the love of someone like Bucky.

It’s a terrifying prospect.

There’s no more excuses now. Steve has no right to keep a guy like this from Bucky. Not if he truly wants to make him happy. And he does. He really does. It’s just hard when the inescapable reality of it is staring him right in the face. He doesn’t know what the hell to do.

“Hey,” Sam says. “You okay?” He’s leaned over, his hands braced on his knees, looking down at Steve.

He’d half-hoped he didn’t look nearly as miserable as he felt, but it must’ve shown. Steve shoots him a smile and says, “Yeah, sorry about that. Just feeling a bit under the weather.”

Sam nods. “We can always reschedule. You’re looking a little rough.”

No, just your run of the mill crisis about the best friend you’re in love with. “Thanks, but don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

And he really doesn’t have time to be freaking out about all this. Sam’s the liaison Steve’s been working with for an effort by his company to start hiring more vets. He works as a counselor for the VA center, so many of the people they could potentially be hiring will have been people he’s worked with personally. He would know better than anyone else what to keep in mind and watch out for throughout this process.

The whole day Steve spent with Sam going through the final paperwork and discussing any last-minute notes to pass on to the people who’ll be taking over the project after them. After this, both Steve and Sam’s roles in the process will be finished. HR will be stepping in to hash out the nitty-gritty details with the administrative staff of the VA. It’s almost bittersweet. Something that’s been consuming Steve’s life at work for ages is finally reaching the final stages of completion, but that means it no longer wholly belongs to him.

Steve’s been coordinating with Sam for months, and got to know him pretty well over the course of a hundred emails and phone calls. He’s come to deeply like and respect the man as time passed, but it didn’t quite hit him until he finally met the man today as they got ready to finalize the last details of the program. But the moment he met Sam, it was like a bolt of lightning hit him. The amicable but professional correspondences and the grainy video calls never even came close to capturing the genuine good-humor and empathy embedded at the core of Sam Wilson.

Sam hums as he scans through the write-up they’ve been drafting. “It’s kinda weird that this is the first time I’ve ever actually met you, considering how much time we’ve spent working with each other.”

“It really is. It’s a shame, honestly. I would’ve loved the chance to get to know you better.”

“Nothing’s stopping us now. I’d be down to grab a bite to eat or something after we wrap up.”

Steve grins. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

 

* * *

 

And after they finish hammering out the last details and emailed out all the documents to the right people, they do just that.

It’s already late afternoon verging on evening by the time they managed to get everything done. Sam knows the area better than Steve, so he chooses the place, a quiet bar with good burgers and better alcoholic milkshakes.

The conversation is light and moves quickly. Steve can’t help but find himself like Sam more and more as he gets to know the guy. It’s impossible not to. There’s a magnetism to him that’s undeniable. And even as Steve despairs over how utterly perfect he would be for Bucky, he still can’t help but like the guy. He doesn’t think he could ever hate or resent him for being Bucky’s Mr. Right.

They trade stories about their times in college, and even learn that they have a mutual friend in Carol Danvers. Sam met her back when they were both in the Air Force, and Steve knows her from a leadership seminar he’d taken last year.

“I tried to enlist too, y’know,” Steve says.

“Yeah?”

“Right when I turned eighteen. My mom was sick then, and I wasn’t sure if we could afford to pay for college on top of the medical bills. So I figured the only shot I had at a post-secondary education was through the military. My anemia disqualified me from service, but even then it probably wouldn’t have worked out. I was a bitty thing back then.”

Sam smiles. “I find that hard to believe to be honest.”

“I’m not kidding. I shot up a couple years later. I’ve even got stretch marks to show for it.”

“Must’ve been a helluva growth spurt.”

“It really was. I felt like someone was stretching my bones. It was embarrassing because almost none of my clothes fit anymore, and I was in college then thanks to a scholarship. So I was going to class, looking like I was borrowing someone else’s clothes.”

Sam snorts, eyeing Steve’s chest. “I’m gonna be honest. It still kinda looks like that. I think you low-balled when you bought that shirt.”

He groans and covers the redness of his face. “God, don’t even _start_. I get enough of it from all my friends. It’s just that I can’t find anything that fits properly. My shoulders are too big.”

“You are kinda ridiculously proportioned.” Sam shakes his head. “Of all the problems to have.”

“It’s a legitimate issue,” Steve says with a groan. “The only reason I started going to the gym was to help manage the anemia, but that means I can’t lose the bulk unless I want to risk worsening my health.”

“Your life is _absurd_.”

“It really is.” He smiles helplessly. “It’s the epitome of first-world problems. Help! I can’t find a shirt that fits because I’m _too_ buff.”

Right then, Steve’s phone chimes. He looks checks it, his eyebrows rising with surprise. “Oh wow, time really flew there. It’s already past midnight.” They’d been hanging out for hours, and he hadn’t even noticed.

“Damn, I hadn’t even realized,” Sam says. “I’ve got work tomorrow.”

“Me too. And I’m meeting with a friend in about an hour.”

“At 1 AM? God, you’re making me feel old for turning in before midnight.”

Steve snorts. “It’s mostly just me making sure he leaves the office and gets some food in him. We do this at least a couple times a week, so I’m used to it.”

“You’re a good friend. I don’t think I love anyone enough to haul my ass out to check up on someone in the middle of the night.”

Steve laughs nervously. “But yeah, I really enjoyed this. I had a lot of fun.”

“We should really do this again sometime,” Sam says and smiles at him.

“We should.”

Sam waves down the waiter, and they pay for the food and drinks. It takes a while for them to sort out the bill and get their jackets, but eventually they’re standing out in the cool night air.

“Hey,” Sam says. “I wanted to ask something.”

“Hmm?”

“I know it’s not strictly professional, but our working relationship pretty much ended today. And well,” Sam looks Steve in the eye, the directness of it is, startling somehow, “you’re an attractive guy, and I enjoy spending time with you. I was wondering if you’d be interested in pursuing something serious?”

Oh. _Oh._

“This was a date,” Steve whispers, feeling a flush of mortification rush to his face, “wasn’t it.”

Sam laughs a little. “I take it we were on different pages in this.”

“God, sorry, I didn’t mean—I haven’t… Christ, this is embarrassing. It really doesn’t have anything to do with you. I’ve just, I haven’t been on a date in _months_. I guess, I’m kind of out of practice.”

“Don’t worry. This was pretty low-key,” Sam says reassuringly. “I don’t mean to rush you into anything, but I just wanted to be upfront about things.”

“No, yeah, I really appreciate that you’re being candid about this. I honestly probably wouldn’t have picked up on anything otherwise.”

“That bad, huh?”

“I’m kind of a mess,” Steve admits. “I feel like I should come with a disclaimer stuck to my forehead.”

“I’m a counselor for the VA. You’re definitely not going to be the worst I’ve seen.”

Steve chuckles. “I don’t know how to feel about the fact that you’re comparing me to vets with PTSD.”

“Yeah, maybe that wasn’t the best way of putting it,” Sam says with a wince. “Still, I am interested in knowing whether you’re open to starting anything.”

And every conversation Steve had with Bucky about giving other people a shot comes rushing back. Here is an opportunity practically delivered to him on a silver platter. Here is the improbable Nicholas Sparks meet-cute right in front of him screaming at him to take this opportunity.

“I’ve sorta been in love with my best friend for the past two years,” Steve blurts out. “And when I met you, I was thinking of setting you up with him.”

There’s a long silence as Sam blinks owlishly at him, digesting that information. “There’s…a lot to unpack there.”

“You have _no_ idea.”

Sam is quiet for a while longer. It’s clear he’s trying to figure out what to say, and belatedly, Steve realizes that he’s basically just ruined all chances of this guy being remotely interested in him. Yay, emotional baggage.

“I have to admit,” Sam finally says, “I’m not very happy with this friend of yours for making you arrange his dates despite your feelings for him.”

Steve’s eyes widen. “No, no, it’s not like that. He would never do that.” He groans, feeling the blush starting to creep back into his cheeks. Having to explain this whole sorry situation out loud just makes the whole thing orders of magnitude more embarrassing than it already was. Even more so when it’s to a guy who knows what he’s like in a professional setting where he’s much more confident and cool under pressure. It’s such a sharp contrast from indecisive he is in his personal life. “I haven’t actually told him?”

“You’re playing matchmaker for your friend—your clearly _single_ _non-heterosexual friend_ , considering you were going to set me up with him—and you’ve never once mentioned that you yourself might be interested in dating him?” Sam says blankly.

“I—yes?”

“Steve, I genuinely like and respect you as a person, but what the fuck.”

“Disclaimer stapled to my forehead—I wasn’t kidding.”

Sam blows out a breath, leaning back and tilting his head up as he mulls it over. He rubs his forehead and looks back over. “I feel like there’s a lot of conflict of interest wrapped up in there, considering your personal stake in the game.”

He winces. “Yeah.”

“Why haven’t you said anything to him?”

“Because he doesn’t love me back,” Steve says quietly. “I can’t just dump all these emotions on him and expect him to ever return even a fraction of it.”

“How could you possibly know that? He doesn’t know about your feelings, so what makes you think you know about his?”

“He’s in love with someone else.”

Sam’s eyebrows rise, and he whistles. “That really _is_ a mess.”

“I don’t even know if it’s possible for him to love anyone besides her.”

“So you’re just throwing people at him, hoping to prove that what? He can love someone else? Either he can’t find someone he loves more than her, or he does. With the path you’re taking now, it won’t be you either way.”

“It’d be worse if I tell him, and he says no.”

Sam tucks his hands in his pockets and casts a look at Steve that he can’t quite decipher. He does think there’s something like pity in it though. Unloading all of this on a guy he barely knows just makes the whole thing seem even sadder than it already is. “Ambiguity isn’t safer, Steve,” he says. “You’re just setting yourself up for heartbreak. You really should talk to him and tell him the truth. It’s not fair to him that you haven’t said anything.”

His phone chimes, but Steve can’t muster up the courage to look at it. He knows he’s late, and the text is going to be Bucky asking him where he is.

“And if he says no?”

“Then you can begin to move on. It’s a hard answer, but it gives you closure.” Sam checks his watch and winces. “Sorry, it’s late. I really should be getting home.”

“Oh yeah, get some sleep. Sorry for keeping you trapped here with my—everything.” Steve reaches out and shakes Sam’s hand.

“I can’t say that I was really expecting it, but I’m glad to help.” Sam shoots a grin at him. “Though I do charge a fee for service rendered.”

Steve chuckles. “What do I owe you?”

“Lunch. You’re buying next time.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” Steve says and watches Sam stroll away.

His phone buzzes again from another one of Bucky’s texts. He takes his phone out of his pocket and reads through Bucky asking him if he’s staying late at work, then saying that he’s going to head home for the night.

Steve taps out a quick apology and sends it, but it’s unlikely that Bucky will see it now. He’s probably long asleep.

He hesitates.

A part of him that knows that what Sam said is true. Hell, Bucky had been stuck in the exact same position as him for years—taking shelter in the ambiguity, never getting a definite yes or no answer, so he never has to be hurt. It was only when the truth became inescapable that Bucky finally began to take the steps to move forward with his life. Sure, it was messy and painful, and he took almost as many steps backward as he did forward. But it was the kick he needed to at least start trying.

So maybe that’s really what Steve needs too.

He sighs and sends another text.

 

* * *

 

Bucky fidgets in his seat as he eyes the door.

Something came up for Steve yesterday, so he couldn’t make it to their burger and fries meet-up. This morning, Bucky woke to a message from him mentioning that he has another date lined up for him. That this is probably going to be the last one. There’s a weird finality to it. It doesn’t feel like Steve’s stopping because work is getting too busy or something. It feels more like Steve’s giving up. Like Bucky’s not worth the effort anymore. Not that it’s fair for Bucky to expect him to somehow salvage his sorry dating life, but still. Something feels off.

It leaves Bucky with a strange squirming feeling in the pit of his stomach. And it’s only worsened when he realizes that Steve is having him meet his date here in _their_ diner. It feels wrong somehow to meet some random stranger in a place that Bucky’s always thought of as Steve’s. Steve was the one who introduced him to the addictive milkshakes here. Steve’s the one who insisted that Bucky come here every other night of the week, so he can make sure he’s actually eating.

They never even really talked about this place with their other friends. Some sort of silent unbreakable understanding that this place was special and it belonged to only them. So it makes him feel queasy that Steve would choose this of all places for Bucky to meet someone else.

He fidgets with his napkin, then drains his cup of water just to give himself something to do. A lot of his friendship with Steve has left him with a feeling that Bucky might one day turn around and find that Steve’s not by his side anymore. It’s not that Steve didn’t care. He always did. It’s obvious that Bucky’s one of the most important to Steve.

But over the past few years, there’s been a strange discomfort in Steve whenever he’s around Bucky. He’s self-conscious. He holds himself back. Sometimes Bucky says something, and he gets an almost wounded look on his face, and Bucky has no idea what he did wrong. Sometimes it’s obvious Steve wants to say something to Bucky, something important, but he always, always bites his tongue. It fills Bucky with the feeling that at some point in their friendship, Steve had just stopped trusting him. And yeah, that hurts like hell.

So Bucky always sort of expected the worst to happen, and Steve would leave him behind at some point.

He doesn’t want to meet this person he’s supposed to be on a date with. He’s tempted to just text Steve and cancel the whole thing, partly out of spite and partly because he knows there’s no way he’s ever going to give this person a fair chance. Not when it feels like they’re the reason he’s losing Steve.

The front door opens, and Bucky whips his head around to see who’s walking through the door. But it’s just a couple of businessmen ducking inside to grab a quick bite to eat. It’s the lunchtime rush and he still has no idea what his mystery date even looks like. Normally, Steve sketches out some sort of image of them, but he didn’t this time. All Bucky has to go on is a vague text telling him the time and location of the date. Nothing else.

He sinks low into his seat and blows out a breath. Yeah, maybe he should just call this whole thing off. And maybe Steve will stop looking at Bucky like he’s afraid of him. Maybe Bucky will finally figure out what the hell it is that Steve wants to say to him but never does. Maybe he’ll sort out his messy complicated feelings surrounding one Natasha Romanoff. Maybe this whole mess will just disappear altogether.

He’s so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn’t even notice it when someone comes to a stop in front of his table. The movement barely even registers in his peripheral vision. And Bucky’s just about to yank out his phone to call the whole thing off when he hears a throat clear, the sound oddly tentative.

He looks up.

And at first, he thinks Steve’s here to tell Bucky that his date cancelled last minute. Except Steve would’ve just texted or called him to let him know, instead of coming in person. Then he thinks that maybe Steve was in the area and wanted to swing by. But he really should be at work right now. Their lunch hours don’t line up otherwise they’d probably try to do their midnight food ritual during the day.

“Hey,” Steve says.

“Hi,” Bucky says back, and he still doesn’t know what the hell is going on.

And then Steve just doesn’t really say anything else. He stands there in front of Bucky looking for all the world like he’s staring down the barrel of a gun, and the weirdness of the whole situation is starting to get to Bucky. He stares up at Steve, trying to figure out why he’s even here in the first place. And the awkward silence just stretches on and on.

Bucky studies him closer and realizes that he doesn’t even look like he came from work at all. He’s not wearing the slacks and button-down of an office drone. Instead, Steve is dressed—almost casually. But not quite. He’s got jeans on, a darker wash and tighter fit than he normally wears on weekends. He’s wearing that one deep blue crew-neck shirt that everyone says brings out his eyes, but Steve has always stubbornly refused to put on. Probably because everyone makes fun of him for how fuckable it makes him look.

And then it clicks.

Steve looks like he’s all dressed up to go on a date.

Except _Bucky’s_ the one who’s supposed to be on a date. With a person Steve refused to tell him anything about. Someone who hasn’t shown up at all. Instead, Steve’s hovering nervously in front of him looking like he’s about to go on a date.

Now Bucky may be an idiot about a lot of things, but even he can put two and two together and get four.

“Oh fuck me,” he says because he has no idea what else to say.

Steve visibly winces at that and somehow manages to look even more terrified than before. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I have no fucking clue at this point.” And then because Bucky’s getting really damn tired of Steve looking at him like he’s about to bite his head off, he says, “Just sit down. We should talk.”

And Steve does. Gingerly. But honestly, Bucky had been half-expecting him to run away.

He stares across at him, feeling—well, he doesn’t know. A lot stuff makes sense now. A lot of stuff doesn’t make any sense at all.

“How long?” he asks.

Steve looks down at his hands. “A while.”

“I’ve known you for four years. You’re gonna have to give me a ballpark estimate for what you mean by a while.”

“Two years, just about.” The way Steve says it, Bucky has a feeling he knows when this all began down to the hour even if he won’t actually say.

He’s also starting to get a sinking feeling that he himself might also know when Steve fell in love with him. Because Bucky fell in love with Nat at just around two years ago too. And Steve always manages to have the worst timing.

“Shit,” Bucky says.

And he can tell that Steve knows what he’s thinking of. “Yeah,” Steve says quietly. “Shit.”

“Why didn’t you _say_ anything? For two whole years you just decided not to tell me?”

“You don’t know what your face is like when you look at her. I never stood a chance.”

And goddammit, Bucky hurts down to his bones at that. Christ, it’s been two long years, and he never knew. Never even once suspected that it might be this. He wishes he had figured it out. He wishes Steve had just _told_ him ages ago.

“Steve,” Bucky whispers. “ _Steve_ , look at me.” And slowly Steve drags his eyes up to Bucky’s. “Why would you ever think I didn’t have room for you? Why didn’t you ever give me a chance to show you?”

He can see how it hits Steve, the way it sends him reeling, almost breathless. And it stings a little that it’s so obvious that Steve had never even considered that Bucky might’ve reciprocated his feelings.

“No,” he says, shaking his head, “you’re in love with Nat.”

“And I love _you_. I’ve always loved you.”

“But you’re not _in_ love with me.”

And honestly, all he wants to do is shake Steve until he finally sees sense.

“That’s because that was never something that was on the table for us. I’ve always known where I stood with you, and I was comfortable with that. I didn’t feel this drive to make it something it wasn’t, something I didn’t know you were necessarily interested in—not when what we had was so good already. I would have been happy to have you in whatever way you wanted me. And if what worked best for you was something platonic, then it was a pleasure just being your friend. But I’ve never closed myself off to the idea of being in love with you. I just never brought it up because you’ve never really dated in all the time I’ve known you. I just figured maybe it wasn’t something you were ready for.”

He can see how it hits Steve. The way it just makes him a little bit shaky like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing is real.

Bucky sighs. Maybe he really should’ve said something. Maybe he should’ve made things clearer. He’s realizing now that all these years of talking about Nat must’ve only driven Steve further and further away. And that’s the last thing Bucky wants. It’s just that he’d never really believed Steve was ever really open to being in a relationship with anyone. In all the time, he’s known him, Steve never really pursued anything.

At first, Bucky had just chalked it up to the fact that Steve was grinding out the last few years of his degree, and he couldn’t afford to be distracted by anything. Not if he wanted to keep his scholarship. And Bucky respected that. But then, in the years after they graduated, Steve never really took any of the opportunities that came.

But then again, if Steve had fallen in love with him two years ago—

“Christ, please tell me it wasn’t because of me. Please tell me I wasn’t the reason why you never really tried for a relationship with anyone.”

Steve winces. “It wasn’t just…my feelings for you. Things were busy with work, and it was just—easier to focus on other things.”

“But if it wasn’t for me, there’s a chance you would’ve found someone else by now?”

He can tell from the look on Steve’s face that this is exactly it. Maybe he even has a specific someone in mind that he never started anything with because of Bucky. Jesus, this is a mess.

“It wasn’t like I was waiting for you or anything,” Steve says. There’s that stubborn downward bend to his brow that says he really has to make this one thing clear. “I wasn’t _pining_.”

“It kinda sounds like you were pining at least a little.”

Steve frowns. “It wasn’t. It was just a—shift in priorities.”

“If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, Steve.”

“It’s not—!”

It hits Bucky that they’re about to tip into an argument about whether or not _Steve was pining this whole time_ which is so completely ridiculous that he can’t help a small snort from slipping out. Steve is all fluffed up with righteous indignation, his face just a little bit flushed. And all he wants to do is kiss him.

Bucky rises from his seat and leans over the table until he’s right in Steve’s space. And once he’s there, for a moment, all he can do is stare at Steve—that big dopey face of his that Bucky’s loved for years. He can’t help but marvel that all this time, Steve had loved him back. Years of them passing each other by, not saying a word for fear of disrupting what they already had.

“I guess I have a lot to make up for, huh?” he says.

“No, Bucky, it’s not your fau—”

He pushes forward and cuts Steve off with a firm kiss pressed onto his mouth, letting himself delight in the knowledge it’s something he can actually do. “Shaddup, Steve, let me make it up to you.”

Steve grumbles, but his cheeks are darkening into a deeply satisfying red. “Guess I can’t stop you,” he mumbles.

Bucky grins and leans in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

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